A crumpled photocopy Ethan held in his hands, corners bent from being passed around the group like contraband. It had been Gus's idea—of course it had—after he'd "accidentally" stayed late in the school office and "accidentally" found the map in an unlocked filing cabinet.
"This is the official layout of the east wing," Gus had said, spreading it out on the lunch table with the reverence of someone unveiling a treasure map. "See? It jumps from 325 to 328. No 327."
Now it was Saturday morning, and Ethan stood in the hallway outside the east wing, staring at a bank of gray lockers that gleamed under the flickering ceiling lights. The building was mostly empty, save for the occasional echo of shoes squeaking down distant corridors.
"Explain to me again how we got permission to be here?" Ethan asked, adjusting the strap on his backpack.
"I forged a club form," Jane said simply, tugging her sleeves down. "Chess Club. Off-campus tournament prep."
"I'm starting to think you're more dangerous than Shawn," Maya muttered.
"Thank you," Jane replied.
Cher arrived last, her hair tied back with a bandana and her sneakers far too clean for what was clearly going to be a dusty morning. "Sorry. I had to change outfits three times. I wanted to say 'investigative,' not 'paranormal podcast host.'"
"I brought snacks," Shawn said, unzipping his backpack to reveal trail mix and a flashlight shaped like a corgi.
"Of course you did," Ethan said, but he was smiling.
The group had gathered in what Gus insisted was the exact corridor where the phantom locker allegedly existed. The numbering on the lockers was oddly spaced—just enough for suspicion. Ethan crouched next to a vent, running his fingers over the cool metal of one locker's edge.
"This one's 326," he said, tapping it.
Jane crouched beside him and ran her hand along the surface until she found what she was looking for: a seam. Barely visible, just slightly off-center.
"This panel's not flush," she said.
Gus pulled a small notebook from his pocket. "I've been logging inconsistencies. Building plans, maintenance logs, locker assignments."
"You... actually did homework for this?" Maya asked, half-impressed, half-terrified.
"It's Gus," Ethan said. "He once did extra credit for a dream."
"Dream journal is academically valid," Gus mumbled.
They all fell silent as Jane gave the locker's side a nudge. Nothing happened.
Cher sighed. "Maybe it's just a mistake. A manufacturing error or something. You know, lockers made in batches, one got skipped, no big deal."
"It's not just the number," Maya said. "It's the story. That seventh grader wasn't making it up."
Ethan ran his fingers across the metal again. Cold. Smooth. Normal. Except it didn't feel normal anymore. Not since Jane said she checked the map.
He stepped back and stared at the row.
"That gap," he murmured. "Look."
They turned.
Between lockers 326 and 328, there was a gap wide enough to slip a hand into. Not wide enough for a person, but wide enough to hint that something wasn't quite right.
"There's space back there," Ethan said.
Jane nodded. "Probably nothing. But maybe…"
A sudden noise echoed down the hall. A clang, faint and metallic.
Everyone froze.
"Janitor?" Gus asked.
"No," Jane said. "They don't work weekends."
"Please don't say 'ghost,'" Ethan said.
"I wasn't going to," Jane answered. "I was going to say prank."
They waited, barely breathing. But the hallway remained silent.
"Okay, team," Shawn said, raising his corgi-shaped flashlight like a sword. "Time to gather intel."
"Split up?" Cher offered.
"No splitting up," Ethan said quickly.
"We stick together," Maya agreed. "Always."
They moved in a cautious group, checking each locker for irregularities. Gus marked down measurements. Jane snapped photos with an old digital camera. Shawn knocked on every locker like he was waiting for a reply. Ethan watched their faces, their movements—everyone was treating it seriously. It was kind of ridiculous.
And yet, it wasn't.
They looped back to the mystery locker about twenty minutes later. Still sealed. Still unnumbered.
"We need to talk to that seventh grader again," Maya said. "Get the full story."
Ethan nodded slowly. "I'll go to the library Monday. Maybe they've got old maps. Blueprints."
"And I'll get a master key," Jane added, like she was ordering coffee.
"Wait, what?" Ethan turned to her.
"I didn't say I'd steal it," Jane replied calmly. "Just... borrow."
"From where?" Maya asked.
"I have a system," Jane said. "It involves gum wrappers, locker schedules, and plausible deniability."
Ethan looked around at his friends—his chaotic, oddly brilliant, rule-bending friends—and something clicked in his chest.
This wasn't just about a locker.
It was about doing something together. About chasing a question even if the answer turned out to be boring. It was about believing someone when no one else did. And yeah, maybe it was also about the fact that Ethan couldn't stop thinking about the way things had changed after Lily.
He'd watched a whole family shift around someone new. Now, with this group, maybe he was doing the same. Finding his orbit. Building his own gravity.
Later that day, they left through the side door, stepping into sunlight that felt blinding after the shadowy hallways.
"No proof yet," Gus said.
"No answer either," Ethan replied.
"We'll find it," Maya said, confidence steady in her voice.
Shawn pointed back toward the building. "Just imagine if the school board's secretly hiding ancient secrets behind a locker panel. Like… I dunno, a treasure map. Or a confession from the principal."
"It's probably just empty space," Cher said. "Or full of spiders. Which is worse."
"I vote spiders," Ethan muttered.
But as they parted ways, Ethan lingered, staring back at the east wing.
There was something there. Maybe not ghosts. Maybe not treasure.
But a story.
And he was going to be the one to write it.